The Girl I Like Is Code Named Cassandra
by VickyVicarious
Summary: That's right... "Code Name Cassandra", from Rob's POV. Second in my series of "The Girl I Like..." Contains dialogue from the book.
1. Chapter 1

Warning to all first readers: This is the **second **story in a **series**, my "The Girl I Like.." series. I am rewriting the entire 1-800-WHERE-R-YOU series in Rob's POV, and this is the rewrite of _Code Name Cassandra. _I already rewrote _When Lightning Strikes_, and you might want to read that story first. It's not entirely necessary; if you know the books well enough you should be fine, but it's still probably a good idea. It's called _The Girl I Like Was Struck By Lightning_.

To all returning readers: Yes! I actually started the next one the _day after_ I finished the first! It's kind of crazy, but hey, I'm not questioning it.

This entire chapter is really just an introduction, but it brings us up to date from the end of the last book, all the way to _CNC_'s chapter 9. It's another one that's all me. Really. There's only three sentences that are taken from the book, and those are just Rob talking. Anyway... enjoy!

* * *

It didn't work.

Maybe I should have expected it; Mastriani had already proven to me that she wasn't just taking no for an answer. But, I mean, _her_ plan had worked. Her plan to rescue a kid and his mom from the Feds and hide her own psychic powers so they'd leave her alone too. And, well, it was a good plan – really, it was – but it wasn't like she'd even planned her plan.

Well, you know what I mean.

_Her_ plan was a spur-of-the-moment idea that got out of hand and we were incredibly lucky that it had worked at all. But _my_ plan, the one I'd worried about and tortured myself over for _weeks_, didn't work.

Now, how is that fair?

Yeah, yeah, I know. Life isn't fair. I've known that ever since I was six, and my dad left us. Which also happened to be the year I attended first grade and found out that, in this town, all men are _not_ created equal. No, here we're delegated into two very separate groups: Grits, and Townies.

The Grits are kids like me, who grew up outside of town limits and never went to preschool. Kids whose parents work at the plastics factory (or at least until recently, when it shut down), and who speak in more pronounced southern accents than Townies. Grits are people like me, who don't want to go to college, and work at a garage for a living – and intend to keep right on doing so. Grits are the ones who wear cheaper clothes and ride on Harleys or in old Toyota pickups rather than their brand new Ferraris or Porsches. We're the ones that are seen as less educated, less intelligent, less worldly, less political, less capable of taking care of ourselves, and overall just _less_ than the Townies.

Then, of course, there's the Townies. The positive to our negative. The doctors and lawyers and the people who fired our parents from the plastics factory. Townies are the kids in school who are noticed, and praised, and popular. The cheerleaders, the football players, the drama club, the band geeks and the science prodigies; you name it, there's a Townie. Except for one place. Detention. Sure, occasionally some of the jocks got thrown in there for minor infractions, but us Grits are the only ones who consistently stay there. That's _our_ territory, and that's the way it's always been. Because no matter how much the Townies look down on us, we think they're just as bad, and we resent them. Sometimes even enough to act like they expect us to, which leads to them treating us even more that way, which provokes us more… It's a vicious circle.

Or at least it was, until Jess.

Jess was always different than the rest of the Townies – you could tell that just by looking at her. Or by seeing her punching a football star because he insulted her friend, something that no other Townie would ever dare do.

It was that very action, in fact, that led to me meeting her. She and I had just got out of detention, and were walking home, when I offered her a ride. Because I recognized that she was different, and I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, and do what no Grit had ever done before: ask a Townie out on a date.

Well, okay, maybe it's happened before. But I highly doubt any Townie has said _yes_ before. Oh no. But Jess… yeah, she didn't mind. Didn't mind at all.

Of course, then she got struck by lightning and developed psychic powers, and I found out she was only sixteen and therefore jailbait to my eighteen, and never asked her out again. Not that that stopped me from blowing up a helicopter and breaking into a secure military facility for her, or anything.

Yeah. Jess Mastriani was weird like that. She made me… do things.

Things like watching _her_, rather than the plays being performed in front of me each afternoon in detention, like she thought I was, and daydreaming about the three kisses we've shared. Things like driving past her house occasionally, idling at the top of the street. Things like not telling her to go away.

That last one was my big mistake. I mean, sure, it was my first real crush. Big deal. I would have gotten over it, had I just told her, flat-out, to _leave me alone._

But I never did.

Not even when she started showing up sometimes, at my uncle Randy's garage, to talk to me. She'd just walk in, look around until she saw me, and then she'd come over and perch on a workbench or lean on the wall, and start talking.

Just like that.

See, and here was where my plan was going wrong. The talking, and the visiting at all. Because that meant we were still seeing each-other, despite the fact that I was already out of high-school, and she was just on her summer vacation. We were still seeing each other, and sometimes I gave her rides home, and once she kissed me when I dropped her off.

And it's not like I did anything to stop her, either. I mean, she didn't exactly pounce on me, or anything. I had plenty of time to pull back, to put my helmet on again, to drive away.

But I didn't. I didn't pull away, not at first anyway, not until after my hands were on her shoulders and hers were around my neck and it was most _definitely_ not the kind of kissing friends do. Not that we were even that.

And then all I could seem to say, once I'd pulled away – well, more like jerked away – was, "We're _not_ dating," in a voice that, just like the last time she'd kissed me, couldn't seem to remain steady.

But that was a one-time thing. The visits to the garage were more regular. Well, okay, they only occurred about three or four times, but I think that was only because she left before a month was up.

She came to tell me about it. I mean, I was working on a car at the time, so she was talking more to my boots, but she told me all about it. Mastriani was going to some band camp, to work as a councilor with – here I finally learned the name of her best friend, whom up until that point I had referred to only as 'that fat chick'… but not to Mastriani's face because you would not believe how sensitive she gets about people insulting her family and friends – Ruth, where, I was informed, she would watch over budding musical prodigies as they honed their already considerable skills.

I just scooted out from under the Volvo I was fixing, and said, "Oh yeah? Well, that'll be good for you, to get away for a while. Hand me that wrench right there, will you?"

Well, I wasn't exactly going to start weeping and begging her to stay, was I? I mean, _really_. The way I thought of the whole thing was, if Jess went away to some camp for the summer, maybe when she came back she would have, well, forgotten about me somewhat. And then maybe my plan would start to actually work, for the first time since I had concocted it, months ago in math class, right after I'd found out she was only sixteen and my probation officer might have something to say about me dating her.

And besides… it wasn't like she was going to meet some other guy and run away with him, right? I mean, she was working as a _camp councilor_. What kind of self-respecting guy would take that job?

You might be confused, what with me talking about ignoring Mastriani forever one second, and then worrying about her finding someone else the next. Well… I can't exactly help it. I _like_ her, okay? So sue me. Even if I _am_ the one who's always trying to get rid of her. I still like her. And sometimes, I can't exactly control myself.

Like when she kisses me.

But, for the most part, that had never been an issue – _that_ being my tendency to get very protective of her/jealous of other guys. I mean, yeah, when we'd first met there had been that time that I threatened to snap Wendell's arm off if he didn't leave her alone, but nothing since then.

Which, I will admit, was due mostly to the fact that no other boys in this town seem to have an interest in going out with Mastriani. I can't really see why. She is definitely very hot – just not in a conventional way. I mean, yeah, her hair is even shorter than mine, and she wears t-shirts and jeans most of the time, and she doesn't put on make-up… but let me tell you, all that works very much in her favor. It makes her genuine, unlike everyone else in this damn town. And besides, her natural looks are _more_ than good enough.

But I guess she drove any potential dates away, you know, with her attitude. She can be pretty… _abrasive_ at times. And then there's the whole punching people issue. And the Lightning Girl thing.

But anyway, I never ended up jealous or anything, because she never went out with anyone else. Which is good. I mean, not _really_, because I should want her to go out with other people. I should _hope_ that some other guy, some guy her age, asks her out, and she says yes, and they kiss, and…

But even just _writing_ this is making me really want to go find her and kiss the hell out of her, just to prove that she's _mine_ and not _his_, right before I punch his lights out for even thinking he could touch her – and _he_ doesn't even exist!

So, it was good that she was going off to camp, for several reasons. Not only could I hope that maybe the prolonged absence would make us both stop liking each-other, but I also wouldn't have to worry my head off about whether or not she was dropping me for some other guy while she was gone, because there wouldn't _be_ any other guys.

…I never claimed to be logical.

But anyway, for those reasons I was happy she was going away – and also because what I had said was true, it _would _be good for Mastriani to get away for a bit. After the whole Lightning Girl fiasco, it might do her some good to lay low for a while, away from where it had all occurred.

So basically, I was happy Jess had gone, and I even managed, during the first couple of days, to stop thinking about her all the time. Maybe, if we hadn't contacted each other all summer, well, maybe I _would_ have stopped liking her. Or at least I like to think so.

But it didn't stay that way for long. Because on only the third day after she left, she called me.


	2. Chapter 2

I hadn't really _expected_ a phone call – it was pretty early in the morning – and so it took me five rings before I finished blinking in surprise and walked over to pick up the receiver. I hadn't even managed to say "hello" before she spoke.

"Hey," she said, "It's me." After a short pause, she added, "Jess."

I rolled my eyes. As if I hadn't known that the moment she spoke. "I know it's you. What's up? How are things up there at band camp?" I figured it was a social call… well, simply because that was what made _sense_. Why else would she call?

"It's orchestra camp," she said, sounding slightly offended. Yeah, big difference there.

"Whatever," I said, completely uninterested in the possible terms for her summer job. They were playing instruments, right? That was pretty much what it came down to, in the end. "How's it going?"

"Things are okay," and just with that, I instantly knew something emphatically _not-good_ was about to follow. "Except I sort of have this problem." Ta-da. Correct again.

Still, I wasn't ready to start panicking or anything. I mean, it was conceivable that Mastriani was just, you know, complaining about work. All of us do it, no matter how much we might like it. You know: 'I sort of have this problem… one of these kids just will _not_ listen to me…' and so on and so forth.

I didn't really expect her to say something like that, but hey, benefit of the doubt, right?

So instead of saying what I _wanted_ to, which was, "It's another missing kid, isn't it Mastriani? What do you want me for this time?" with a sigh thrown in for extra measure – no, instead I opted for a more innocuous, "Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"Well…" Mastriani trailed off uncomfortably. Yeah, the problem was not gonna turn out to be missing instruments or something, now. I could just picture her, sitting at some bench, with the phone held up to her ear and nervously chewing on her lips…

"Look, here's the thing." Finally, she just came out said it. Another guy had found her, and wanted her to find his kid. And because, underneath all the attitude, Jess is pretty self-sacrificing, she was doing it. But what this had to do with _me _– other than her really mistaken idea that we were dating and I'd want to know this sort of stuff – I didn't know.

I purposefully tried to ignore how I'd feel if she had ever actually _did_ leave me out of one of these psychic things.

"So," she finished her story, "I just need a ride into Chicago to sort of check out the situation, and I know you have work and all, but I was kind of wondering if, when you get a day off, or whatever, you wouldn't mind – "

I listened to her, quite calmly. "Mastriani," I reminded her, "You're _four hours_ away."

Yes, I really was calm. It was another one of those disconcerting things Mastriani did to me, probably without even realizing it; when she called me, to ask _me_ for a _favor_, I got this odd rushing feeling in my ears, and then, next thing I knew, I was agreeing to whatever she was asking, which was how the whole helicopter thing happened in the first place.

But I'd gotten better at controlling it over the summer; to the point where, if I wasn't _mad_ at her, I was at least not preparing to drive all the way up there at the drop of a hat.

"I… know it's far," Jess said, in an odd, disappointed – and maybe even ashamed – voice. "You know what? Never mind. I can just get somebody else – "

I interrupted her again, not quite ready to stop talking. And before you say anything, yes I _know_ I'm incredibly hypocritical, all right?

"I don't like it," I said, furrowing my brow and beginning to turn in odd little half circles. I have a habit of pacing while I talk on the phone, and since the cord in our kitchen is too short, I inevitably end up spinning in tiny little circles until I catch myself and force myself to stand still. "Why the hell did your brother tell the guy where you were in the first place?"

I admit I'd never met him, and I was fully aware that Douglas Mastriani was just a tad bit psychopathic, but still. What kind of older brother – _knowing_ how much trouble the Feds had been giving his little sister – just sat back and gave them the information to make her life a living hell once more?

Still, maybe that was why they'd called him. Douglas went outside so rarely that occasionally people call him Boo Radley, which means that he can't exactly have the best developed social skills out there. I guess the Feds had figured he would be easier to crack than anyone else – like, for example, me.

Not that they knew that I had been involved in things at all. I mean, officially, anyway. They could very well have seen me hiding beneath those bleachers.

I voiced this opinion to Jess. Not the one that the FBI agents might know who I am or that they might think that her older brother, of whom she is incredibly protective, was a weak link, but that they could be involved at all.

"How do you know that this wasn't isn't a setup by those agents who were after last spring? I mean, it very well could be a trap, Mastriani. They might have arranged this whole thing as a way to prove you lied when you said you didn't have your powers anymore."

"I know," Jess kind of sighed, and I knew she was going to do it anyway. She's got a soft heart, underneath all that talk, and I knew just the idea that she might be responsible for keeping an innocent kid away from their parents when she _knew where they were_ was killing her. "That's why I want to check it out first. But I'll just get someone else to take me. It's no big deal."

Right. No big deal. As if I'd let just _anyone_ take Jess on such a potentially dangerous trip. "What about Ruth?" I asked, finally referring to her by name in almost the first time ever. Much as I hated to admit it, she did care about Mastriani, however much of a snob she might be, and I knew she had a car. Otherwise, whose ride was she in every afternoon when she picked Jess up after detention? "Can't Ruth take you?"

"No," she said, and I rolled my eyes. Right. The Grit-hater was probably too much of a goodie-goodie to sneak her out to search for missing children in the middle of a strange city. Either that or a wuss.

"Look, don't worry about it," Jess said. "I'll find someone. It's no big deal."

_If it was no big deal_, one part of me asked, _why did you even call me in the first place?_

But I didn't dwell on that thought, letting my exasperation bleed through into my voice as I asked, "What do you mean, you'll find someone? Who are you going to find?"

There was a pause, then Jess's voice shouted something obviously not directed to me. "Oh," she said, sounding a little surprised. "Yeah, just a minute." Then, back to me, she said, "Look, I gotta go. This guy loaned me this phone, and I have to give it back now, because he's leaving."

It was on the tip of my tongue to say, "Okay. Bye Mastriani," and then hang up. But something caught my attention before I did so. She'd said, _this __**guy**__ loaned me this phone_. _I have to give it back now, because __**he's**__ leaving._

He. Guy.

I blinked rapidly several times, unconsciously straightening from where I had been leaning comfortably against the wall. _Guy?_

My throat suddenly felt very dry, but I didn't want a glass of water. "What guy?" I heard myself asking, "There's guys there? I thought it was a camp for kids."

"Well, it is." Jess sounded a little surprised at my tone, and I forced myself to breathe deep, even breaths. "But there's guy counselors and all."

_Guy counselors._ Guy – god. God, I had let Jess drive off, four whole _hours_ away, to a place where she'd be confined in a small camp for a long length of time with a bunch of other _guys_, who obviously liked her well enough to give her their phones and drive her around –

"What's a _guy_ doing, working at a band camp for kids?" I asked, my hand now clenching the phone so hard I was afraid I'd break the plastic casing. Or at least, I would have been, had I been thinking even remotely normally anymore. "They let _guys_ do that?"

"Well, sure. Why not?" Why _not?_ Because then one of them would be chasing _my_ Jess around for the whole summer, and – "Hold on a minute," Jess said, still sounding entirely too calm.

I could still hear her voice, even though it wasn't directed at the phone. "Hey, Dave," she yelled, "You got a car, right?"

_Dave._ I had never liked that name.

Just then, I heard the faint, but unmistakable sounds of a deeper male voice answering Jess. "Yeah. Why? You planning on staging a breakout?"

That was it. I was already talking even before Jess began to say, "You know what, Rob? I think I – "

"I'll pick you up at one," I reiterated, my voice hard.

"You'll what?" I could practically hear Jess blinking. "What are you talking about?"

"I'll be there at one," I repeated again. "Where will you be? Give me directions."

She did so, before hanging up on me. I closed my eyes tightly, still holding the receiver up to my ear.

Then, very deliberately, I placed it back in its cradle and slowly took three steps away from it, heading towards the living room.

There were _guys_ there.

_Yeah. Why? You planning on staging a break-out?_

I clenched my fists, a growl growing in my throat. No one, especially not some stupid camp_ councilor_, was going to just –

Stop it, Rob. God, what was I thinking? It wasn't like Jess would actually want to go _out_ with any of them – god, how many were there? How many made up a 'them', anyway?

No. She liked _me_. I reminded myself of this fact repeatedly. She had been trying to go out with me since last spring! Why would she just suddenly change her mind?

Well, maybe because I'd been trying to get rid of her for just as long a time…

Shit.

I quickly dialed Randy, begging off work that day. Much to my surprise, he let me go without asking any questions. Maybe it was because I was his nephew, not to mention his most productive employee.

Or maybe it was the urgent tone of my voice.

Whatever it was, I was out of there in less than half an hour, roaring down the highway with only one thought in my mind.

_Find Jess. And let that asshole Dave know she is __**off**__-limits._

* * *

A little too OOC? I was having so much fun with jealous Rob... But I promise he's still the Rob we know and love. I won't make him into one of those psycho possessive boyfriends. Really, pinkie swear.

I know not much happened, but it was over my official minimum chapter length and I'm sleepy but I still want to post today, so... You'll just have to make do.


	3. Chapter 3

To my anonymous reviewer:

**ipod:** Thank you! I was a little worried I'd gone overboard with the whole _Dave_ thing, but glad to hear you liked it!

To everyone else: Sorry, I know I've spoiled you up till now, posting once a day and all... But I actually finished this earlier, then had to go to class and never got to post it. So here it is now, and longer than the other two chapters! Which is in fact why I stopped it. I don't particularly love the chapter end, but I didn't want to make it too long, so...

Anyway, read on!

* * *

Somewhere about the first hour away from home, the wind cooled me down enough that my jealousy retreated and it occurred to me just exactly what I was doing. Instantly, I felt a different type of heat suffuse my cheeks as a deep humiliation spread through me.

I couldn't believe what I'd done. How I'd acted. I mean – god, Jess must think I was insane. I mean, here I was, driving _four hours_ just to give her a ride, because there was the remote – _very _remote – possibility that there might be some other guy up there that she liked.

What was _wrong_ with me?

Still, even as I was thinking that, I kept driving, because really, no matter how logical I might be able to be about it now, the jealousy was still there, and would be, until I'd either satisfied myself that there was no way Jess would want any of the guys up there, or every male named Dave within a five-mile radius was evacuated to Florida. Since the second option seemed unlikely, driving to Camp Wawasee - honestly, what a stupid name - seemed the only way to go. Besides, I'd already said I'd be there.

It took me a while longer to get there than I had expected. Because I got lost a few times, trying to find her camp. The roads around it had some confusing twists for what seemed to be no reason at all, that I could see. I mean, all there was were trees and a lake, why were the big U-turn and S-shaped roads necessary? Not to mention the occasional side roads that went up into the woods, just to dead-end – but only after at least one turn, so that I couldn't tell they were dead ends until _after_ I'd turned up them.

I wasn't exactly in the best of moods at that point – it had been a long drive, I'd had to pay for gas once already, and I knew I'd need to again on the way back, I was hot in my leather motorcycle jacket despite the wind, I kept on getting lost, and Jess… Well, I was actually a little afraid of myself where it came to Jess. What if… Well, I hadn't seen her in a little while, and after the whole… Dave… thing – what if I kissed her or something?

You see, I'm not allowed to kiss her. She can kiss me – and I never exactly shove her off immediately – but when it comes to me, that's an entirely different story. I _never_ kiss Jess, not after that time at Crane, anyway. That was the only exception to the rule.

Because Mastriani is stubborn enough _now_, and if I actually went around kissing her then she would _know_ I like her, and then my whole plan would be blown out of the water, and I know I would end up dating her. And that would just lead to my eventual arrest.

I saw her, finally, on my seventh attempt at the right road, and I sped up a little, approaching her. She stuck out an arm, as if I might not notice her among the great amount of nothing surrounding her, and I pulled up to a stop in front of her, setting my boots down on the ground. I didn't look at her, until I'd taken off my helmet, and then I had to squint through the sunlight.

It was a good thing that I was straddling the Indian, because if I wasn't, I don't think I _would_ have been able to stop myself from kissing her. She was… God… Just, standing there, in her traditional jeans and t-shirt, looking exactly the same as normal, if a bit more tan, I really shouldn't have felt more drawn to her than normal.

But I guess I underestimated my jealousy, or how much I liked her, because as soon I saw Jess, my mouth went dry and I just… stared at her, frozen.

"Hey, sailor," She said wryly. "Give a girl a ride?"

The sound of her voice brought me back to myself, and I gave her my usual don't-mess-with-me-now-or-I-won't-be-able-to-not-kiss-you glare – which I really hoped she didn't actually understand.

I popped open the box on the back of my bike, and handed her my spare helmet. Although, no one other than Jess has ever worn it more than once. Then, I said, "Get on," in a toneless voice.

She did so, pulling the helmet on and wrapping her arms around my waist. If I had been an eleven-year-old boy, I might have been forced to say, "She's _touching_ me."

As it was, I resisted the urge.

"Put the petal to the metal, dude," Jess said, and I raised an eyebrow at her, slightly amused and yet a little disgusted that I _was_ amused, before silently turning away and putting my helmet back on.

Then we were off.

The drive to the missing girl – Keely something – wasn't as long as it was to pick up Jess, but it was still two-thirty by the time we arrived on Lake Shore Drive, slowing down and listening to the music from the cars around us.

I'm not sure what Jess was thinking about, but I know my mind was occupied with the same girl riding behind me, and that's really my only excuse. I probably should have noticed the 'innocous' white van following us, especially when we turned off onto a residential street, and traffic slowly thinned, to the point where, when we finally stopped, there hadn't been any cars in front of us for a block or so. But I was too busy thinking about Jess, and trying _not_ to think about Jess, which I guess shot my concentration.

She made me stop three houses away, at least, which might have done us some good. Maybe.

We walked together up to Keely's house, sizing it up silently. It was narrow, and not very tall. A dirty alley ran down one side, and the other side was attached to the house next to it. Not much paint remained on the house, either, and the grass in front was tall. Still, despite it's height, I could still see a few plastic Hefty bags of garbage, one with a split down the side and a bottle half-sticking out.

I spoke the first thing that came to mind. "Nice-looking crack den."

Jess winced visibly. "It's not that bad…"

I just shook my head. "Yeah, it is." _And you know it_, I added silently. Despite my… less than pure reasons for coming here, I had to admit, right then I couldn't say I regretted it. Because any kid living in a place like this… There was a more-than-good chance that her home life would be no prettier than that yard out front, filled with garbage.

"Well," Jess stood up straighter, preparing herself, "Here goes nothing."

She opened the gate and marched up to the house, me following her silently. It was only as she reached out to ring the doorbell that I finally spoke. "So what exactly," I heard the hollow ringing echoing throughout the house, "is the plan here?"

More ringing. Jess turned and looked at me briefly. "There's no plan."

"Great. My favorite type." Jess blinked, and even I was unsure whether I was being sarcastic or not. However, we had no time to debate the issue, before an irritated woman's voice demanded, still through the closed door, "Who is it?"

"Hello, ma'am?" Jess called back, "Hi, my name is Ginger Silverman, and this is my friend, Nate. We're seniors at Chicago Central High School, and we're doing a research project on parental attitudes toward children's programming. We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions about the kinds of television programs your children like to watch. It will only take a minute, and will be of invaluable help to us."

I turned to stare at Mastriani like she was insane, which I was honestly suspecting at the time. "Ginger Silverman?"

She shrugged, slightly defensive. "I like that name."

I couldn't help myself. "_Nate?_"

"I like that name, too." More defensive now.

I didn't ever get the chance to comment on that statement, because before I could say anything, the door opened. Locks had been undone all through our short conversation, and now a woman appeared in the doorway. Everything about her was flat and hard and angry, except for the dark circles under her eyes and the long scab on her forehead.

"_What?_" she asked, apparently as confused by 'Ginger' and 'Nate' – honestly, _Nate?_ – as I was. Jess repeated her little speech, as I silently eyed the woman up and down. A little girl walked up to her side right around the time Mastriani mentioned her fictional high school we were seniors at – making me one year younger and her one older. If only – wrapping her arms around her mother's leg and blinking up at us with wide eyes.

"Mommy," she asked, "Who are they?" I couldn't help but smile at her, and her eyes grew even wider upon seeing said smile as if she'd never seen one before. What kind of mother _was_ this?

"Just some kids," the woman – Mrs. Herzberg, that was what Jess had called her – said, taking her cigarette out of her mouth and glaring at us. Me especially. "Look, we aren't interested, okay?"

She almost had the door closed when Jess quickly blurted, "There's a ten-dollar remuneration to all participants…"

Clever, Mastriani. Very clever.

Mrs. Herzberg froze instantly, before opening the door again, just a little wider this time. "Ten bucks?" Her eyes had lit up, looking at Jess, and suddenly all I felt was sorry for her. Because looking at her a second time, taking in the half-dyed hair she'd obviously stopped caring for recently, her tired stance and dirty clothes, the bags under her eyes and that mysterious scab on her forehead… It was obvious she was a pretty desperate woman.

But that was no excuse to kidnap her daughter.

"Uh-huh," Jess said. "In cash. Just for answering a few questions."

Mrs. Herzberg shrugged, exhaling smoke at us. "Shoot."

Keely, still clutching her leg, tightened her grip a little.

"Okay," Mastriani said, in a very relieved voice, "Um, what's your daughter's – this is your daughter, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Keely was looking up at her mother, eyes still wide, but Mrs. Herzberg never looked down.

"Okay. What is your daughter's favorite television show?"

Keely, smiling for the first time, said, "_Rugrats_" at the exact same moment as her mother said, "_Sesame Street_."

"No, Mommy," Keely tugged her mother's shorts, distressed. "_Rugrats_."

Mrs. Herzberg's lips tightened, but she ignored her daughter. "_Sesame Street._ My daughter is only allowed to watch public television."

"_Rugrats!_" Keely yelled, and her mother's face suddenly darkened in humiliation. "If you don't quit it, I'm sending you out back to play."

The little girl's lip trembled, and she stepped back from her mother, looking about to cry. "But you know I like _Rugrats_ best, Mommy."

"Sweetheart," The word was flat and forced, "Mommy is trying to answer these people's questions. Please do not interrupt." She glared at the little girl.

Jess and I exchanged a look. "Um," she said, "Maybe we should move on. Do you and your husband discuss with one another the kinds of television shows your daughter is allowed to watch?"

Mrs. Herzberg didn't mention that she wasn't married; in fact, she didn't say anything other than a terse, "No." She didn't even glance down as she added, "And I don't let her watch junk, like that _Rugrats_."

"But Mommy," a small voice whispered, "I love them."

Mrs. Herzberg almost blushed, obviously embarrassed. "That's it. Outside. Now."

"But, Mommy – " The little girl was actually crying now.

"No. That's it. I told you once. Now go outside and play, and let Mommy talk to these people." Keely sobbed quietly, turning and running away into the house. Mrs. Herzberg watched her go silently for a moment, then quickly turned back to us. "Go on," she told Jess. Then, "Shouldn't you be writing my answers down?"

And there it was. Now that we knew what we'd come for – which was that Keely didn't belong here – it was time to go, and there was our perfect escape route. "The clipboard!" Jess cried, "I forgot the clipboard!"

"Well," I said, and the woman in the doorway looked at me in surprise, I guess because I hadn't talked up till then. "Then I guess that's the end of that. Sorry to trouble you, ma'am – "

Jess cut me off before I could say goodbye and we could leave, grabbing my arm and pulling me up in front of Mrs. Herzberg. "No. That's okay. It's in the car. I'll just go get it. You keep asking questions while I _go and get the clipboard_."

For a moment, I just stared – no, _glared _– at her. Because it was obvious what she was planning, and I for one wanted no part in it. Keely would survive the fifteen minutes it would take us to find a pay phone and tell her father where she was. But Jess just couldn't leave her there – not even for _fifteen minutes_. She had to rush in and rescue her, putting herself – and me, but mostly her – in danger while she was at it.

And I thought that even before I knew the van was following us.

"Ask her about the kind of programming _she_ likes, Nate. And don't forget the ten bucks." Before I could say a word, Jess was gone, running out the gate, and I turned back to Mrs. Herzberg.

"Sorry for the trouble, ma'am. I only have a few more questions…" Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jess disappear down the alley to one side of the house. "What is your favorite television program?"

Over the next few minutes, I learned Mrs. Herzberg's favorite three programs, her husband's – she still didn't mention she wasn't married – and was informed, once more, that she didn't let Keely watch _Rugrats_.

I tried to stall, but after about five minutes, she began getting suspicious. Right in the middle of listing the hours Keely would watch things, she stopped and said, "Where's that girl – Ginger? Why hasn't she come back with the clipboard yet?"

"Oh," I said, glancing around before giving her a fake smile, "She must be having some trouble finding it. That's okay. I'm almost done – "

She cut me off, squinting and crossing her arms, blowing smoke at me. I resisted the urge to cough. "No. I don't want to have to say all this twice. I can wait."

Crap.

"Uh, I have a very good memory. It's okay, I'll just write it all down later. Um, so do you allow your daughter in the room when you watch – "

"Look, I'm done here, okay?" She glared suspiciously at me. "I'm not answering any more questions."

"But I only…" I trailed off at the look on her face. "Yes ma'am. Thank you for helping. Uh, here's your ten dollars."

I pulled a ten-dollar bill from my wallet and she snatched it, folding it into her fist. But she didn't go back inside, still scanning the street.

"There's no new cars. I thought she said you left the clipboard in a car. Where's your car?"

I blinked, slowly backing off the porch, surprised that she knew what every car in the neighborhood looked like. "We parked a few blocks away. We've been going down the streets. Uh, I had probably better be seeing what's keeping J-Ginger. Thank you again." I gave her a smile, and then turned, walking to the street.

Before I got even to the gate, I heard a harsh, angry voice behind me. "Who the hell is that?" Apparently, the new Mr. Herzberg was here. As I glanced back, I could see him slamming an angry fist into the door.

"Some kid doing a survey…" He didn't listen to her, not even when she added, "He gave me ten bucks." Instead, the man yelled after me, "Hey, you! Stop! What the hell were you doing on my property?"

I ignored him, walking faster. Apparently, after I left the front yard, Mrs. Herzberg managed to alert his attention to the five dollars, which calmed him down immediately. I was watching as I walked sideways along the street, straining my ears to hear their conversation, and I hear the words, "Keely," and "out back," mentioned.

Shit. _Shit_.

Not even bothering to pretend the Indian wasn't mine, I quickly sat down and gunned it up, not even bothering with a helmet. Then I did a quick U-turn, and drove down the alley, stopping where I could see a dumpster made it easy to climb over the fence into the backyard. Even as I pulled to a stop, I could see little Keely Herzberg come flying over the fence to land on the dumpster, obviously propelled by Jess.

I could hear shouting from the other side, but my first and foremost concern was the little girl. "Hey," I said, reaching up to lift her down and set her on the seat in front of me. She blinked up at me with wide, scared eyes. I probably should have said something more to convince her I had only good intentions – but the lack of Jess climbing over the fence behind her was making me much too worried.

"Jess!" I yelled, "Jess, come _on!_"

Then I heard a - male, thank god - yell of pain, and Jess quickly vaulted right over the fence to land on the Dumpster, and jumped straight from there down onto the seat behind me, wrapping her arms around both Keely and I. I didn't even care that she'd probably ruined my shocks; I was so relieved.

"Go!" she yelled, and I did so, roaring down the alley like a bat from hell. I could hear Mrs. Herzberg's anguished cry behind us, "_Keely!_" and again the sudden feeling of pity hit me, but…

She'd had her chance. And she had _definitely_ screwed that up.

That was why I was here, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, I totally blame FoggyMoon for this chapter. I'd posted chapter 3, and I was all satisfied and done for the day - and then she reviewed, and said I should be all guilty for not posting yesterday (still not guilty!) and so on, and then... I just, went and wrote this. It's shorter than usual, but hey, it's the second chapter in the same **day.** I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, it might bite (I love adding that to the saying. Yes, I'm aware I'm odd).

* * *

Luckily, there was a McDonalds not far from Keely's house, or I would have been forced to stop driving. I mean, not that I was going all that fast – never more than fifteen miles an hour after that original escape out the alley – but I have a very strict policy on helmets. Basically: No helmet – no riding.

Of course, I only had two helmets anyway and this was somewhat of an emergency situation, which was why I allowed it, but still. It bothered me a lot. My mom made me promise never to ride without a helmet when I got my bike – an old friend of hers was in a crash a long time ago and died from head trauma. If he'd been wearing a helmet, he would have probably survived – and even in such extreme circumstances, breaking my promise bothered me quite a bit.

Well, that and I really do like my heartbeat.

Anyway, I pulled up in the McDonalds parking lot, and we all went inside, Keely holding Mastriani's hand. I ordered Keely a Happy Meal and got Jess a coke, and we all sat down in a booth in the corner, and then I told them about how my conversation with Mrs. Herzberg had been halted by her suspicion, not to mention her new man – Clay, Jess informed me – slamming his fist against the door frame and yelling at me.

Then Jess shared with me her version of events – talking with Keely and learning about her new daddy's bottle-throwing habit – before she finally got up to go call Keely's father.

Keely had just sat there the entire time, eating silently and greedily, not even paying attention to the conversation around her. However, when Jess finally finished her phone call, and came back to us, she finally looked up.

"Hey," Mastriani said, "We got visitors."

I was already scanning the booths. "Oh, yeah?"

She shook her head in response to my looks around. "Outside. The white van. Don't look. I'll take care of it. You stay here with Keely."

I just shrugged, reaching out and snagging on of the fries that had fallen out of it's container, dipping it in ketchup. "No problem."

Jess smiled at me, then turned to Keely. "Your dad's on the way."

Keely grinned widely, but still didn't say a word, slurping her milkshake. Jess grinned again, then went up to the counter. I watched silently as she ordered two double cheeseburgers to go, but then a grin crossed my face as I suddenly understood.

It was, as I'd said last spring, moments like these when I was really proud just to have sat next to her in detention. Because now she was bringing the covert FBI agents that were stalking her around lunch. She knew they were following her, and so she bought them lunch and went out to say hi, no doubt cracking more jokes about how they'd make the perfect couple, and so on…

It was just beautiful.

Anyway, Keely and I sat there, mostly in silence, except every now and then she'd ask me a question, and once I offered to help her open her Happy Meal toy. It was a pretty comfortable silence though – just, there was nothing that needed to be said, from either of our points of view. Keely knew that her dad was on his way, she was eating a Happy Meal, and she had some sort of doll thing that she was enjoying making walk around.

I, on the other hand, had completed what I'd set out to do – officially, but I figured I could take care of the unofficial stuff when I dropped Jess off back at camp. I have a pretty threatening glare when I set my mind to it, and somehow I doubt that any guy teaching a _band camp_ is going to be too willing to go up against that. Or, at least, I hope so – and now I just wanted to get back home. It was going to be a long drive, I knew, but really, I just wanted to be back in familiar territory, away from this entire new psychic thing Jess was doing. I was just… sort of tired. Not as in I-never-wanted-to-do-it-ever-again, but more as in, it-had-been-a-long-day-and-I-didn't-want-to-do-anything-I'd-regret-or-_should_-regret-because-I-wasn't-thinking-clearly, and the only way not to do that would be to go home soon. I just knew it.

So really, neither of us had anything to say. And I don't get along with little kids anyway; not as well as, say, Mastriani. She knows just how to talk to them, and they almost instantly trust her – not-so-little ones too, like Sean Patrick O'Hanahan – whereas I get suspicious looks and miniature glares. I'm not really sure why.

It was only about fifteen minutes or so until Mr. Herzberg arrived, speeding into the parking lot and parking half in, half out of a spot before rushing inside. It was obvious he'd just arrived from an office of some kind, because he was all dressed up, in a nice suit and tie, but even so he didn't seem to care that Keely's hands would get grease on him, judging by the way he snatched her up into his arms the moment he saw her.

I watched with a little smile as they hugged for a long time, before Mr. Herzberg finally released her. I could see tears in his eyes as he watched her, babbling excitedly about her new toy and seeing him again, and I could _see_ him flinch – more like jump, half out of his chair – when she mentioned how happy she was that he wasn't really in heaven, like Mommy had told her.

Finally, he gathered her up in his arms, and carried her away – but not before coming up to me and whispering, in a tearful, shaking, but utterly sincere voice, "God bless you – thank you, I can't tell you how much…" He choked, and simply hugged his daughter again, tears spilling down his cheeks. "She means the world to me, I don't know what I would have – thank you. _Thank you_."

And then, just like that, he was gone. He picked Keely up and carried her out of there, and then I was alone in the McDonald's, waiting for Jess to return, and wondering about this whole trip.

I mean, Jess _knows _now. She _knows_ I care – at least, a lot more than I ever let on before – and since she's not stupid she probably knows that I was jealous. Which means that she isn't going to give up on us anytime soon. Which is, in turn, going to make my life a lot more complicated.

Still, I couldn't really bring myself to regret it. Not even when Jess returned from the white van, telling me, "They were asking about you," and not even when, on the way back to her camp, I spontaneously pulled off down one of those side roads I'd gotten lost on earlier, and parked next to this picnic table overlooking the lake, about two miles away from the camp, because I didn't _want_ to leave Mastriani yet, and that part was currently stronger than the part of me that usually stops me from doing stuff like that, reminding me about the whole probation/jailbait issue.

I just couldn't bring myself to regret it. Not when Mr. Herzberg was so clear in my mind: the way he'd hugged Keely desperately, as if she was the only thing that would ever matter; his eyes tearing up as she said she was glad he wasn't in heaven; the joy that lit up both his and his daughter's eyes when they saw each-other, and, most of all, his voice. "_Thank you_," he'd said, "She means the world to me, I don't know what I would have – thank you."

So, no matter what the consequences, I just… could never regret helping Keely. It was worth it. It was worth all of it, and more.

Of course, at the time, I had no idea of what the consequences really would be. I'd thought the only issues left over would be relationship ones; I'd believed that Mastriani and I were done with missing children for the moment; I had thought it was _over_.

God, I was stupid.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi again! This is in now way related to the story, but all of you must see _Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog_. It's truly amazing. I was rewatching it today and thinking what a shame it was so few people knew about it, and then I thought, duh! I can just mention it in the next chapter! So, it's absolutely free, just google 'Dr. Horrible' and click the first link, then scroll down and click 'watch it right now'. Seriously. Check it out. It's amazing.

And... back to the story... Hum, I have nothing specific to say. Just... review please! And I hope you like it!

* * *

So there we were: Jess and I, sitting on a picnic table in the shade, looking out over the lake, not saying a word. It was a comfortable silence, birds and cicadas in the background; but still, I felt I had to break it. There was a question I wanted answered.

"So," I said, still watching the lake, not turning to look at Jess beside me, "Was it worth it?"

I was genuinely curious. I know that Mastriani hates being psychic, and she'd told me all about skipping her meeting, which meant she would most likely be fired, too. I know that helping Keely was definitely worth it to me, but what would Jess think?

"I don't know," she sighed, shrugging her shoulders. I glanced at her, before returning my gaze to the lake. A turtle was climbing out of the water, onto a rock, although it seemed to be having difficulties, repeatedly slipping back into the lake. I watched it idly, more out of lack of anything else to look at than real interest. "I mean, her mom didn't seem that bad. She might have gotten out on her own, eventually."

I blinked, abandoning the turtle for the more interesting Jess, surprised at her statement. And not entirely sure who the 'her' she was referring to was; Keely or her mother.

"Yeah," I said, "After enough stitches." Underneath my sarcasm, I was actually feeling very calm. Maybe it was the peaceful surroundings. Or maybe I was just tired. Who knows?

After a few more minutes of companionable silence, I found myself breaking it once more. "She claims her favorite show is _Masterpiece Theater_," I told Jess, watching the turtle once more. It was still having a hard time climbing that rock.

"Well," Mastriani replied, "That doesn't prove anything. Except, you know, that she wanted to impress us."

"Impress Ginger and Nate," I corrected her, still unable to control an eye-roll at the name she'd given. I mean, _Nate?_ "from Chicago Central High? Yeah, that's important."

"Well…" Jess trailed off, kind of just looking around us quietly, and it suddenly occurred to me that maybe Jess wasn't quiet because she was feeling calm and content, like me. In fact, it seemed more like she was… well, guilty.

It sounded silly even to my own ears, because Jess hadn't shown any hesitation in returning Keely to her father earlier, but that had been in the heat of the moment. Maybe now she was regretting it. I mean, yeah, we could both see that Mrs. Herzberg loved Keely and all, but she was definitely _not_ a fit parent.

I reached out and put a comforting arm around her shoulders, enjoying the heat from her body warmth radiating out into my side as I did so. Not that I'd been _cold_, but…

Forget it.

"Hey," I said, feeling a lot less awkward than the last time I'd tried to comfort her about her psychic-related guilt. Of course, we knew each-other a lot better now, and besides, it was just _easier_ to say this kind of stuff out in the quiet, peaceful woods as opposed to the loud, busy hallway with the flickering fluorescent lights. "Stop beating yourself up. You did the right thing. You always do."

Apparently, this didn't comfort her all that much, because she just sighed and said, "I guess…" still staring off at the water with a heavy gaze.

"Are you kidding?" I asked her, squeezing her shoulders. "That woman told her kid that her father was dead. _Dead!_ You think she was playing with a full deck?"

"I know," Jess said, grudgingly. I didn't wait for her to bother to continue with something like, 'But she really loved Keely. And now she's all alone with Clay.'

Instead, I reminded her of how she really _had_ made the right decision. "And look how happy Keely was. And Mr. Herzberg. My God, did you see how stoked he was to have his kid back? I think if you'd have let him, he'd have written you a check for five grand, right there and then." I leaned in close, making sure she took in what I was saying.

I was, of course, referring to when Mr. Herzberg, leaving the McDonalds, had run into Jess coming back in. He'd thanked her as exuberantly as he had me, and offered her quite the sum of money, attracting the attention of several other customers before Jess declined and told him to give it, if he really felt he had to, to 1-800-WHERE-R-YOU.

"I guess," Jess said again, and I frowned. She was sounding just a little _too_ miserable. I mean, yeah, she might be guilty – but this was taking it a bit far.

And then it hit me, and I almost laughed. Oh, she was good. She'd gotten me wrapping my arm around her, leaning in close… She was _good_.

I pulled back immediately; "You can forget it, Mastriani, I'm not going to kiss you."

She sighed roughly, obviously frustrated. "Why not?"

I kept both my face and voice blank, resisting the urge to yawn. We'd been over this before. I told her so, in exactly those words: "We've been over this before."

She rolled her eyes and nodded slightly, acknowledging the truth of my words, before pouting slightly. "You _used_ to kiss me."

"That," I said, face and voice still blank, "was before I knew you were jailbait." I could see Jess give the same kind of nod as before as I leaned back on my elbows, looking up into the trees above us. The leaves were waving slightly in the wind.

In fact, what I had just said wasn't really true. Well, partially. I mean, we've only kissed four times, and only one of those was before I knew she was jailbait. Two of the other kisses I could blame on her – well, she'd been the one to start them, anyway – but the fact of the matter was, I had still kissed her once, even _after_ I'd learned she was jailbait.

But hey, I was rescuing her from a guarded military base; give me a break. I've long since decided to blame it on adrenaline alone. And the other two times we kissed, when she made the first move, well…

Okay, I didn't really have an excuse for those two kisses, except that Jess really is a damn good kisser, and I _do_ happen to have a crush on her – but in my defense, I really do stop kissing her! It just… takes me a while.

Jess was the one who interrupted the silence this time. "You know, we're really a lot alike. I mean, we both dress the same, we love hogs… so what if you don't have curfew? Or, are, you know, out of high-school? Or on probation? Really, you shouldn't let that stop you."

I just rolled my eyes, lifting my head briefly to raise an eyebrow at her, before lying back down again.

"Look," Jess sighed, laying down sideways next to me, propping her head up on her elbow so she could still see me. "I don't see what the problem is. I mean, I'm going to be seventeen in eight and a half months. Eight and a half months! That's nothing. I don't see why we can't – "

I cut her off by turning my head to look at her, nearly bumping noses; we were lying that close to each-other. Suddenly I became very, _very_ aware of this fact, and I swallowed. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that you're supposed to play hard to get?"

She blinked at me. "What is _that_ going to get me?"

I couldn't quite contain my smile at that, and despite my better judgment – and the fact that I'd just said I wouldn't do this – I found myself leaning forward to kiss her.

Look, I'm sorry. Okay? I _swear_ I didn't mean to! But, well, Jess is just…

She's _Jess_. And sometimes, yeah, I end up kissing her because of that. It's a habit I'm trying to break, I swear. No, really.

Of course, that argument might not be supported by the way I was acting right, then, but hey, I never kissed her, and until actual lip-to-lip contact was made, I think it's perfectly fair for me to deny ever actually _trying_ to, either.

Anyway, I never did kiss her. Not, unfortunately, because I suddenly realized what I was doing and pulled back, but because right then, when we were about to kiss, this loud siren started wailing…

So maybe my immediate reaction – rolling away from Jess like she'd just burst into flames – was overreacting a little, but hey, she was startled too. And yeah, my first thought – that it was her father, blowing one of those alarm klaxons at us – was a little unreasonable, but her dad was _scary_. Or at least, the only time I'd ever met him, he was.

Anyway, it wasn't her dad, nor was it, as Jess later told me she'd thought, a tornado alarm – although that at least would have made a little sense. It was pretty cloudy and tornados aren't all that uncommon in Illinois – no, it was a police car, speeding past us in the direction of the camp.

Well actually, it was _four_ police cars, all headed to the camp.

Instantly, I suspected Jess. Well, can you blame me? She's a trouble magnet.

"What have you done now?" I asked her. Jess was too distracted to even protest my automatic assumption that the squad cars were here because of her.

Instead, she just shook her head, a worried look on her face. "I have a very bad feeling about this."

"Come on," I sighed, "Let's go find out."

It didn't take us that long to get to the camp, or at least the entry gate – getting was an entirely different matter.

The young security guard was taking his job way to seriously, squinting all suspiciously at Jess's ID and saying, "Only time counselors are allowed to leave the camp is Sunday afternoons."

I shook my head, and Jess stared at him as though he was insane. "I know that," she said in a tone that implied he was very idiotic. "I snuck out. Now are you going to let me back in, or not?"

The guy just sucked on his buckteeth, looking pleased with himself. "'Fraid not. There's a bit of a problem up at the camp, you know, and – "

Jess just put her helmet down and said, "Let's go," completely ignoring the security guard. I smirked at him, doing the same.

"Nice talkin' to ya," I said, before gunning the engine, and driving right around the little white barrier on the road. It was obviously built to stop cars; on people and motorcycles, it was absolutely useless.

We left the guard shouting after our dust – literally, going off the road had kicked some up – as we drove up the long gravel road to the camp proper. I stopped in front of the largest buildings, around which all the cop cars were situated, and lots of little musical prodigies were gathered, with a few counselors holding them back and trying to direct them to what seemed to be a mess hall of some kind.

Upon seeing us pulling up, they began whispering to each-other even more, pointing at us. Even the counselors stared. I guess Jess never told anyone here that I was her… not-boyfriend.

Now _that_ is what really bothers me. I mean, even if I wasn't on probation, I don't think I'd be okay with dating her – okay, I'm lying. I know I would anyway. I mean, it's hard enough not to _now_, so if it was actually not a legal problem, yeah, I'd definitely date her. But I would still have a _problem _with it – because of her mixed signals.

Well, it's not really even mixed signals. It's more basic even than that. She just doesn't _tell_ people about me, and I don't know if it's because I'm a Grit or I'm older or I'm not in college or I drive a motorcycle or I'm on probation – she never even mentions it, she just doesn't _tell_ people about me. The only ones who know are Ruth and the Feds, and _they_ only know because I've been involved in both of the psychic things. Her brothers don't know, her parents don't know – and I've even _met_ her dad.

It's incredibly infuriating.

Anyway, Jess took off her helmet, and Fatso-Friend – sorry, _Ruth_ – came over to us as I followed suit, saying sarcastically, "Well, I see you managed to find that ride you were looking for."

I took my helmet off, mentally patting myself on the back for not responding. Jess glared at her friend. "Ruth, I don't think I've ever formally introduced to my friend, Rob. Ruth Abramowitz, this is Rob Wilkins. Rob, Ruth."

I gave her a curt nod, not exactly nice, but not actively nasty. "How you doing."

She smiled as if she was sucking on a lemon, and said, in a sickly sweet voice, "I'm doing very well, thank you. And you?"

I raised my eyebrows, but didn't say a word. Seriously, Jess should be proud of me right now. "I'm good."

Luckily, one of the campers saved us before we had to indulge in any more awkward-polite conversation, tugging on Ruth's sleeve. "Ruth. I'm _hungry_. Can we go in now?"

Ruth nodded, turning back to what I presumed were the rest of her charges. "You all go in now, and save a place for me. I'll be there in a minute."

All the kids ran off, and Jess turned to Ruth, having heard one of them ask what the cops were doing here. "Good question," she said, "What _are_ the police doing here?"

Ruth just shook her head, eyeing me closely. "I don't know."

I frowned, uncomfortable with her gaze, as Jess continued questioning her. "What do you mean, you don't know? The place is crawling with cops, and you don't know why?"

Ruth finally looked away from me to Jess, thank god. "No," she said. "I don't know. All I know is, we were down at the lake, having free swim and all, and the lifeguard and made us all go back inside."

For the first time, one of boys – was it Dave? Or someone else? – spoke, "We thought it was on account of the storm," he said, nodding up at the dark clouds. I looked him up and down suspiciously.

I was distracted from him, however, by the arrival of another girl, who strode up to and said, "Oh, I see you've decided to join us again." Then she smiled at me. "And brought along a friend, I see."

I just raised an eyebrow at her. I hadn't heard her say more than two sentences, but I could already tell that this was the infamous Karen Sue Hanky Jess had talked about – or verbally abused, take your pick – so many times on her visits to the garage. Jess was right. Her voice really _did_ make you want to slap her… and I don't slap.

"Karen Sue," Mastriani growled, "you better hurry and get into the dining hall. I heard a rumor they were running low on wheatgrass juice."

"Aren't you funny," Karen Sue simpered – yes, simpered. I'd never heard it being done before, but I knew simpering when I heard it, and that was _it_. "But then I suppose it's very amusing to you, what's going on. On account of it being because of you telling that one little boy to hit that other little boy." Really? I blinked at Jess, trying not to laugh. That had to be an interesting story. "Well, I guess it just goes to show, violence doesn't pay."

For a moment, I just stared at Karen Sue – and then I was forced to hold in a laugh once more as Jess slowly approached her, until she paled and backed away, tripping over a tree root. However, my grin faded when Mastriani glared ferociously at Karen Sue.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she demanded.

Karen Sue got a little pale, and started babbling in a nervous, high-pitched voice, "Well, I just went into the administrative offices for a second because I had to make sure the fax from Amber's doctor had come – about how her chronic ear infections prevent her from taking part in the Polar Bear swim – and I just happened to overhear the police talking to Dr. Alistair about how one of the boys from Birch Tree Cottage went down to the lake, but no one saw him come out of it – "

Jess reached out and grabbed Karen Sue's shirt, saying, in a very threatening voice, "Who? Who went into the lake and didn't come out?"

I think I was the only one who saw the way she was shaking.

And as it turned out, Jess had very good reason to be shaking, because the next words out of Karen Sue's mouth were, "That one you were always yelling at. Shane. Jessica, while you were gone, Shane _drowned._"

All color drained from Jess's face, and I saw her stagger as if she'd just been punched in the gut.

Oh, _shit._


	6. Chapter 6

Thunder rumbled loudly in the sky as we all just stood there, shocked at the news we had just heard. Well, everyone else was more shocked than I was – I didn't even _know_ the kid – but still.

Jess recovered first, fisting both hands into Karen Sue's shirt and yanking her closer. "What do you mean, _drowned?_"

"Just what I said," Karen Sue squeaked, trying to pull away. "Jess, he went into the lake and he never came out – "

"Bull," Jess said, her face a mask of anger. But I could see the fear, just under the surface. "That's bull, Karen. Shane's a good swimmer."

"Well, when they blew the whistle for everyone to get out, Shane never came on shore." I glared at Karen Sue. Couldn't she tell that this was _not_ the right thing to be saying? I mean, she was sounding a little hysterical by now, but… even so!

"Then he never went into the water in the first place," Jess growled, visibly holding herself back.

"Maybe," Karen Sue sniffled, "And maybe if you'd been here, doing your job, and hadn't gone off with your boyfriend," She sneered at me, "you'd know."

Had she actually just said that? I had to be dreaming, because there was no _way_ anyone would be idiotic enough to try and _blame_ Jess for any of this. It was crazy.

And it drove _Jess_ crazy.

She was shaking Karen Sue hard, hard enough that her headband went flying off and her head snapped back with each jerk. "I don't believe you. You're lying. I ought to smash your face in, you – "

For the first time almost since we'd arrived, I suddenly realized just what was going on, and I stepped forward. "All right," I said, pulling Jess away from Karen Sue. I noticed that the guy – was it Dave? I couldn't remember – staring at her with a horrified look, and I fought back the urge to hit him. She was in _shock_, numbskull! "All right, Mastriani, that's enough."

I yanked Jess back, away from Karen Sue, who was white and shaking, obviously terrified. Jess was still glaring venomously at her. "You're lying," she spat, "You're a liar, and everyone knows it."

Karen Sue just shoved her headband back on as if it could protect her from Jess. I might have said something scathing, but now _really_ wasn't the time. Not to mention, I had my hands full keeping Mastriani from actually reaching Karen Sue. I'd grabbed her around her waist, and she was struggling so hard that it was all I could do to hold her still.

"You know what else, Karen Sue?" Jess shouted, still trying to pull away, "You can't play flute for squat! They weren't even going to let you in here, with your lousy five out of ten on your performance score, except that Andrew Shippinger came down with mono, and they were _desperate_ – "

"Okay," I said, finally just giving up and lifting her off her feet to throw her over my shoulder, in a fireman's hold. It was easy, because Jess is so much shorter than me, and it made it a lot less difficult to keep her still. "That's enough of that."

Jess wasn't even trying to get away from me anymore – well, unless you counted beating her fists on my back and screaming, "That was supposed to be _my_ cabin! The Frangipanis were supposed to be _mine!_"

Now, I'm no expert, but something told me she didn't really care about the Frangipanis – whoever the hell they were. It was my guess that she was in shock, and Karen Sue wasn't really helping. So I turned around, so Jess could no longer see her.

I could hear Ruth, apparently trying to comfort her, saying, "Jess. Cool it."

Oh yeah, what a _wonderful_ friend.

"He's _not_ dead. He's _not._" Jess said, sounding desperate and on the verge of tears. "She's lying."

I could tell, from her tone, that she really wasn't feeling up to bashing Karen Sue's skull in anymore, so I set her down again. But I kept one hand holding on to the back of her neck… just in case.

And, oh god, she _was_ crying. I swallowed hard. "There's one way to find out, isn't there?"

Jess didn't seem to get my meaning, so I nodded towards the administrative buildings. Jess wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands, in a childish move that just made me want to comfort her, and sniffled, "Okay."

Of course, then Ruth and that other guy had to follow us in, not able to see when they weren't wanted. Once inside, a secretary that looked oddly like John Wayne stood up and addressed us, "Kids, they still don't know anything yet. I know you're worried, but if you could just stay with your campers – "

Jess cut her off. "Shane _is_ my camper."

John Wayne apparently didn't know how to reply that, mouth flapping dumbly, so Jess spoke again, voice determined. "Where are they? Dr. Alistair's office?"

She led us past the secretary – who was still protesting, but honestly, none of us were listening – and threw open a door with the shiny label, "Camp Director."

Behind the door was gathered a large group of people – several different types of cops, including the sheriff, a old man I guessed was the camp director, and some woman. "Jess." The woman leapt up, eyes wide and excited. "There you are. Oh, thank God. We couldn't find you anywhere. And Dr. Alistair said you didn't show up for a meeting this afternoon – "

Jess blinked at the lady, finally just saying, "I was unavoidably detained. Can someone please tell me what's going on?"

The old man – Dr. Alistair – stood up. "What's going on?" He mimicked incredulously. "What's going on? You mean to say you don't know? Aren't you the famous psychic? How could you not know, with your special, magic powers? Hmm, Miss Mastriani?"

Asshole.

"I'll tell you what's going on, young lady," The guy went on vehemently, "since your psychic powers seem to be failing you at the moment. One of our campers is missing. Not just any camper, but one of the boys assigned to _your_ care. Ostensibly, he drowned. For the first time in our fifty-year history, we've had a death here at the camp."

What the hell was _wrong _with this guy? Just blaming everything on Jess, just like that? I saw her flinch; I _knew_ he was getting to her. And he didn't even care – all he cared about was his stupid camp's 'fifty-year history'.

"But I'm surprised you didn't know that already," the old bastard mocked, "Lightning Girl."

I swear, had it not been for the sheriff stepping in just then, I would have decked him.

"Now, Hal," The sheriff said gruffly, glancing around, first at Jess's stricken face, to my thunderous expression, before finally settling his eyes on Dr. Alistair. "Why don't we just calm down here? We don't know that for sure. We don't have a body yet."

"The last time anybody saw him alive, he was on the way to the lake with the rest of his cabin. He isn't anywhere on the campgrounds. The boy's dead, I tell you. And it's entirely our fault! If his _counselor_ had been there to keep an eye on him, it wouldn't have happened."

A stunned pause followed this statement, the only sound breaking the silence a long roll of thunder following a flash of lightning, not to mention the sudden downpour that erupted right after. One of the cops looked out the window and muttered, "Gonna be hard to drain that lake now."

Finally, I found my voice, "Wasn't there a lifeguard?"

Everyone glanced at me, surprised. What? As if I was going to let them pin all the blame for this on Jess. None of it was her fault – even if she didn't believe that.

"It seems to me," I went on, trying not to glare at the Camp Director, "if the kid was swimming, there ought to have been a lifeguard. Wouldn't the lifeguard have noticed someone drowning on his watch?"

There was a pause, similar to one after Dr. Alistair's latest outburst, in which all people in the room just stared at me. Then the Director recovered his voice, squinting at me through his bifocals. "Who are you?" he asked, completely avoiding what I'd just said. "What is this?" he cried, also noticing Ruth and the other counselor, whose name I still hadn't heard. "Who are you people? This is my private office. Get out."

I didn't budge. "Well?" I demanded, "Wasn't there a lifeguard?"

The sheriff, eying me with either suspicion or approval – I couldn't tell which – was the one to answer. "There was. He didn't notice anything unusual."

Oh, and that made it _Jess's_ fault?

"That's because," Mastriani said from beside me, sounding a little dazed, "Shane never went into the water."

As one, the office's occupants turned to look at her, blinking in surprise. _Of course,_ I thought, _of course he didn't._ I mean, now Jess had said it, it was obvious. No one saw him leaving the lake? Yes, because he never actually got in the water. No one saw him drowning? Of course – he never had. He was just _missing_, not dead.

But Dr. Alistair didn't appear to have the same epiphany as I had. Not, at least, judging by the way he said, "And I suppose, since you weren't there, you're able to tell that using your special powers?"

Oh, that was _it._ I stepped forward menacingly, not even caring that he was a sixty-year-old guy that would probably have a heart attack from just one punch. However, the sheriff stopped me with a hand and an, "Easy son." Then he turned back to Dr. Alistair. "Just what are you talking about, Hal?"

"Oh, you don't recognize her?" Dr. Alistair was using the same sort of tone Ruth had when Jess 'officially introduced us', but he really didn't pull it off as well. "Jessica Mastriani," he said, "the girl with the psychic power to find missing people. Of course it's a little late for her help now, isn't it? Considering the fact that the boy's already dead."

"Oh, Hal," sighed the woman, looking stressed and tired. "We don't know that. He might just have run away." She blinked at Jess. "Wasn't there some altercation earlier today?"

Jess nodded, looking thoughtful and guilty. "What about the other boys from Birch Tree Cottage?" she asked, "Did anybody talk to them? Ask them if they'd seen Shane?"

The sheriff shook his head. "We've got some officers interviewing them now, in their cabin. But so far… nothing."

"He was last seen on his way to the lake with the others," Dr. Alistair pointed out, apparently still set on believing that Shane was dead.

"Doesn't mean he drowned." I shot him an angry look, and he glared right back.

"Who are you? You're not one of the counselors." He glanced at the woman for affirmation of this. "He's not one of the counselors, is he, Pamela?"

Pamela shook her head, running a hand through her hair wearily. "No, Hal. He's not."

"He's my friend," Jess stood up for me. "And we were just leaving." Too right.

But before we could go, even before we could turn around, Dr. Alistair spat, "Leaving? Oh, well, isn't that special. You seem to have a knack, Miss Mastriani, for being unavailable when you're needed most." Jess's mouth fell open in shock, as did several other peoples'. I mean, he was being openly _nasty_, now.

"What about those special powers of yours?" He went on, "Don't you feel the slightest obligation to help us find this boy?"

I had no idea what was going through his mind right then, and I didn't want to. All I wanted to do was get Jess out of here now, because I knew whatever it was, wasn't good.

I grabbed Jess by the elbow, ready to yank her out of there. She ignored me, saying, "I don't have special powers anymore, Dr. Alistair."

"Oh?" He said, "Is that so? _Then where were you all afternoon?_"

Jess stared at him, eyes wide. I, for one, didn't care how the hell he knew – because it was obvious now that he did – I just wanted out. "Okay," I said, using my grip on Mastriani's arm to pull her with me to the door. "We're going now."

"You can't go anywhere!" The old guy had the nerve to shout, thumping a fist against his desk, "You are an employee of Lake Wawasee Camp for Gifted Child Musicians, and you – "

"Not anymore," Jess interrupted him. "I mean, I'm fired, aren't I?"

Dr. Alistair paused in his fist-thumping, just blinking at her, as if the thought had never occurred to him. "Fired?"

Pamela shook her head, "Oh, Jess, of course not. None of this is your fault."

What, and she couldn't have said that _earlier_, when the good Dr. Alistair was laying the blame for everything from Shane to global warming at Jess's feet?

There was a long pause, as Jess seemed to digest that surprising statement, the she shook her head, determined. "If I'm not fired, then I quit. Come on, Rob."

Both Pamela and Dr. Alistair tried to stop her, admittedly in different ways – Pamela said, "Oh, Jess. You can't – " in a sad voice, whereas Dr. Alistair just started yelling about contracts – but Jess didn't stop for either one, leaving the office without another word.

"Are you crazy, Jess?" Ruth asked. "Quitting, when you didn't have to? They weren't going to fire you, you know."

"I know," Jess told her. "That's why I had to quit." I got it then, and my detest for Dr. Alistair rose a notch. He was a narc for the Feds. "Who would want to hang on to an employee like me? I'll tell you who: someone with ulterior motives."

That utter, absolute, _basta_ –

"I don't really understand any of this," the mysterious boy who'd been tagging around after us the whole time finally spoke, "And it probably isn't any of my business. But it seems to me if you really do have psychic powers and all of that, and people want you to use them, shouldn't you, I don't know, do it? I mean, you could probably make a lot of money at it."

Jess and I stared at him for a long moment. Ruth just shook her head. "Oh, you poor thing."

Right. _He_ was off the guys-I-have-to-worry-about list, then.

Before anyone could say anything more – or Mastriani could explain exactly _why_ she didn't want to do 'the psychic thing' – the doors burst open and two people, in a flurry of umbrellas and rain, stepped into the room.

"Oh, jeez," Jess groaned. "Not you again."

* * *

Not the best ending, I know, but it was getting too long, and that seemed like a good place to cut it short. Let me know what you think, as always, and appreciate this chapter - I was so into writng it that I skipped a class without even realizing it! _That_ is dedication, my friends.


	7. Chapter 7

Hi, everybody! I scared you, didn't I, skipping another day? (snicker) But this chapter should make you happier... Well. Sort of. It is a little sad. But hey, you've read the books! You know there's a happy ending coming eventually!

Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to Cathycalamitous's garden, and her poor, shaved-up tree. I hope it all grows back, Cathy! (Yes, I know I just responded to your review, but I think I forgot to mention that... I have bad short-term memory sometimes.) Anyway, here's the latest chapter!

Anonymous review:

**Lollipop**: Thank you. Seriously. I normally do forget, but this series has just... I dunno. I guess I've caught I writing bug or something. Maybe it helps that I'm just writing a different POV on the same story, rather than a new story with an entirely new plot. I dunno. And phenomenal is a 3-point word, with a 5-point bonus for using it on me! Thanks! And yes... one day I **do** want to publish a story. Believe it or not, I write original stuff too. Thanks again for your review!

* * *

'You' was, of course, the same two Feds we had left at McDonalds. And 'you' did not look happy.

"Jess," said Special Agent Smith, as she finished folding her umbrella, "We need to talk."

As soon as she spoke, I could see Jess's shoulders slump in front of me. She was obviously too tired to deal with them, and with very good reason.

"Look," Mastriani sighed, putting up a hand to keep them from saying anything. "I really don't have time for this right now. I am having a personal crisis, and – "

Special Agent Johnson interrupted her, apparently not recognizing her hand as the universal symbol for _STOP_. "It's going to become really personal, if Clay Larsson gets his hands on you."

I blinked. Clay…Larsson?

"Clay Larsson?" Jess echoed my thoughts. "You mean Keely's new dad?"

"Right." Special Agent Smith briefly glared at me; I have no idea why. "His cousin's mother's boyfriend."

I screwed up my face, trying to figure out what she'd just said. "My what?"

No one bothered to explain it to me, though, because the male Special Agent was talking again. "After you left him this afternoon, Mr. Larsson rightly guessed that the person who had kidnapped his girlfriend's daughter was someone who'd been hired by the child's father."

Oh god. I knew where this was going, and adding in that long pause, and yell of pain I'd heard before Jess managed to get over the fence earlier, I had a feeling Clay had more than one grudge against her. Add all that to what Keely had told us about him 'throwing things' and this was very bad news.

"He therefore paid a little visit to your friend Mr. Herzberg, who returned to his office after his rendezvous with you at McDonald's." Despite my rapidly growing worry, I couldn't hold in a private snicker at the Fed's use of 'rendezvous'. It just didn't go well with McDonalds.

"Oh. Is he…" Jess hesitated, looking worried. "I mean, he's all right and everything, right?"

_Not. Your. Fault!_ I wanted to shout it at her; he _knew_ what he was getting into.

"He's got a broken jaw," Special Agent Johnson – god, it was annoying, referring to them with their stupid titles; if Jess called them by their first names then why the hell should I use titles? – _Johnson_ flipped open a notepad and looked it over, "Three fractured ribs, a concussion, a dislocated knee, and a severely contused hip bone."

_Very_ bad news.

"Oh, my God." Jess's eyes were panicked. "Keely – "

"Keely is fine," Smith was, at least, nicer, but that didn't change the fact that she was here to tell us that – "We have her in protective custody, where she'll remain while Mr. Larsson is still at large."

Tell us _that._

Jess actually seemed surprised. "You guys didn't catch him?"

Johnson glared at her. "We might have, if certain people had been a bit more forthcoming about their activities earlier today." What _was_ it today, with everyone blaming Jess for their own mistakes? I mean, come on! She's just one girl, she couldn't be responsible for everything they were blaming her for, even _with_ the psychic thing!

It was really starting to annoy me, the Jess-blaming going on. But Johnson was an FBI agent with a gun, not a sixty-year-old music camp director, so even though there was no sheriff to stop me, I didn't do anything, just clenched my fists.

"Whoa," Jess said. At least she stands up to the Feds – and how messed up is that, that Mastriani has no problem lying to and making fun of federal agents right to their faces, but she can't do the same to her summer boss? "You are _not_ pinning this on me. It doesn't have anything to do with me. I'm just an innocent bystander in this one – "

Johnson interrupted her again. "Jess, we know. Jonathon Herzberg told us everything."

Jess seemed perfectly willing to accept this explanation, if extremely angry about it, but I was more suspicious. Those FBI guys are sneaky.

"He told you everything, did her? With a broken jaw?" Johnson looked bored, flipping back a few sheets of paper on his notepad to show us the entire story, written down in what must be Mr. Herzberg's handwriting.

_Narc_.

"Jess," Smith looked worried. "Clay Larsson is not a particularly stable individual. He has an arrest record a mile long. Assault and battery, resisting arrest, assaulting a police officer…" It was like listening to her describing my dad. Not exactly pleasant. "He is a very dangerous and volatile person, and from what Mr. Herzberg tells us, we have reason to believe that, at this point in time, he has a particular grudge against… well, against you, Jess."

All thoughts of my dad instantly fled my head. Of course he was looking for Jess. Of _course._

God, why can't I like a boring girl that doesn't have maniacs after her on a regular basis?

Mastriani, the girl in question, didn't seem too worried. "Hey, relax. It's not like he knows who I am, or where I live, or anything like that."

"Well, that's just the thing," Smith said, "He _does_ know, Jess. You see, he… well, he pretty much tortured Keely's father until he told him."

It took me about three milliseconds to hear the word _torture_, connect it with _he __**does**__ know_, and come to a perfectly logical conclusion: I was getting Jess the hell out of there.

"Okay. That's it. Let's go get your stuff, Mastriani. We're out of here."

Jess just stared at me for a second before turning back to the Special Agents. "Well," she said sarcastically, "That's great. That's just great. And I suppose you two are here to protect me?"

She didn't need them. I was perfectly willing to provide her with the best type of protection available: the protection that came from being four hours away, safely locked up at home.

Johnson put his notepad away. I saw Jess stare at his shoulder holster. "That's one way of putting it," he said, "It is in the national interest to keep you alive, Jess, despite your assertions that you no longer possess the, er, talent that originally brought you to the attention of our superiors. We're just going to hang around here and make sure that, if Mr. Larsson makes it onto Camp Wawasee property, you are protected."

_If?_ It was a _joke_ getting in here! There was no way Buckteeth at the gates would be able to handle Clay Larsson!

"The best way to protect Jess," I growled, "would be to get her out of here."

Much to my surprise, Johnson agreed. "Precisely." I blinked in surprise, and he looked me up and down with a frown. He didn't seem to like that I'm almost as big as him, frowning at me even more.

Ha.

"We're planning on taking her to a safe house until Mr. Larsson has been arrested," he told me, not even bothering to look at Jess.

"I don't think so," I snapped, even as Ruth, behind me, was saying, "Oh, no. Not again."

I mean, seriously, I was the guy who broke in and pulled her out of the _previous_ 'safe' place they'd had her, did he really think that would placate me? I think not.

And Ruth… Well, to tell the truth, I'd pretty much forgotten about her. But I guess she knew how Jess would feel about the whole 'safe house' thing, and wanted her to be safe. I mean, they _were_ best friends.

I still don't like her, though.

"Excuse me," Jess said, reminding everyone just who we were discussing, "But don't you remember the last time you guys took me somewhere I was supposed to be safe?" Yeah, _I stole her_. Remember that?

Apparently, Agents Smith and Johnson did, if the way the exchanged looks meant anything. Smith said, "Jess, this time I promise you – "

"No way," Mastriani cut her off, much to my glee. "I'm not going anywhere with you two. Besides," '_Rob's got it covered_.' Say it, Mastriani… "I've got some unfinished business down here."

Wait… what?

"Jess," Smith tried, but Jess cut her off again.

"No, Jill. I'm not going anywhere. I have things to do here. Responsibilities."

At that moment, I hated the name _Shane_ almost as much as _Dave_ – no, I hadn't forgotten about him, and I can't say I was exactly unhappy about a reason to take Jess home.

Of course, she had to be stubborn about it.

"Jessica," the Fed was still pleading with her, "This really isn't the time to – "

"I mean it," Jess said. "I have to go."

Now, I now realize that when she said 'I have to go', she was referring to taking care of the whole Shane deal. But at the time, all I thought was that she had actually – miraculously – changed her mind.

So, I nodded goodbye to everyone still standing inside the administrative building, then followed her out into the rain. I briefly contemplated stealing one of the Special Agents' umbrellas, but it wasn't like it would do either of us any good on the Indian anyway.

I jogged to catch up with her, because Jess had failed to wait for me. "That was some dramatic exit," I said by way of greeting.

She smiled a little bit, though she looked anything but happy. "My specialty."

I nodded. "You're going the wrong way."

Jess paused, looking up at me – and right then, I knew. I _knew_ that she didn't plan on leaving with me, any more than she planned on going with Jill and Allan, as she called them.

However, I wasn't just going to let her walk away. It might be in the national interest to keep her alive, but that was nothing compared to my _personal_ interest.

"No, I'm not," Jess said.

"Yes, you are." I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. "The bike's that way."

Mastriani shook her head. "Rob, I can't leave."

"Jess." It was all I said, but I hoped it made it clear to Jess exactly how serious I was, because I almost _never_ use her first name – well, outside my head, anyway.

"No," she said, despite what I'd said. "No, Rob. I'm not going."

I glared at her, trying my absolute hardest to remain calm. But I knew that our conversation was going to end only one way: her getting on the Indian and me driving us out of here as fast as I could go in the rain. Because I wouldn't _let_ it end any other way.

"Jess," I said in a low voice, keeping myself calm. The cold rain, absolutely soaking me now and sticking my clothes to my skin – and Jess's too, I couldn't help but notice, despite the situation – helped a little. "You know I think you're a pretty down girl. You know that, don't you?"

Jess blinked at that, obviously surprised at the apparent non sequitur. "Okay," she nodded slowly, "We'll call that one a given, if you want."

"Good," I said, still reining in the anger. "Then maybe when I say this next part, you'll understand where I'm coming from. I did not drive all the way up here to watch you get your brains hacked out by some psycho, okay? Now you get that ass," I jabbed a finger at her, somewhat losing control, "on my bike, or I swear to God, I'm going to put it there for you."

Apparently, despite my use of her first name, Jess didn't quite understand just how serious I was, because instead of walking past me to the bike, she just wiped the rain out of her eyes and said one word: "No."

Okay. Okay, Rob, the whole point of this is to keep from getting her killed, you won't help that goal by doing it yourself…

_God_, I wanted to either hit her or kiss her.

But in the end I didn't do either, just shaking my head and smiling, staring off at the lake for a minute.

Thunder rumbled again, and Jess shouted over it, "I have to find Shane."

"Yeah?" I was still smiling, and still trying my hardest not to either grab her and just _shake_ her or smash my mouth to hers because she still didn't _get it_. "I don't give a crap about Shane."

Jess gasped, anger crossing her face. "Well, I do," she snapped. "And I'm not leaving here until I know he's safe."

And just like that, the smile left my face, and I officially lost control. I reached out, lifted her up, and began walking away with her, caveman-style.

Oh sure, Jess struggled, but I had her arms pinned and she was upside down, so the most she could really do was flop around awkwardly. I completely ignored said flopping, turning around and walking straight for my destination: the Indian.

I'm not exactly sure what I was thinking. Yeah, I could easily just carry Jess around, but forcing her to put on a helmet, sit down behind me, and ride the Indian for four whole hours – that would be a lot harder.

But, I guess that never occurred to me. All I was thinking was: _Jess is in danger. I have to take her home. _

And I was in the middle of doing so, when I was interrupted by a certain Special Agent Johnson. Yeah, Johnson, the guy who'd been planning on taking her to a 'safe house' himself, but apparently couldn't understand my own concerns. Apparently, he was married. He should have gotten it, robot or no.

"Son," he said, completely ignoring the fact that I'm – at most – a whole _two inches_ shorter than him. "Put the girl down."

_Jess is in danger._

"I don't think so." I kept walking.

I heard Johnson sigh, before he stepped out from between the trees, where we could both see him more clearly. Him, and his gun. Which was drawn. And, you know, aimed at my head.

I blinked, and froze for a second, staring at the gun. I heard Jess gasp from somewhere around my stomach.

_I have to take her home._

"You," I scoffed, "are not going to shoot me. What if you hit her?"

"It would be unfortunate," Johnson acknowledged, "but since she has been a thorn in my side since the day we met, it wouldn't upset me too much."

"Allan!" Jess sounded completely surprised. "What would Mrs. Johnson say if she could hear you now?"

Johnson ignored her, staring straight at me, his aim not wavering. "Put her down, son."

Everything was spinning out of control.

Staring at him, I flipped Jess over and set her back down. Johnson came up and grabbed her arm, pointing the gun in the air. But it was obvious he was ready to turn it back on me if necessary.

"Now get on your motorcycle, Mr. Wilkins, and go home."

I closed my eyes briefly, taking a deep breath and clenching my jaw. Distantly, I heard Jess say, "Hey. How did you get his last name? I never told you that."

Johnson replied, "License plate."

"Oh."

I opened my eyes, suddenly feeling very numb and distant. The rain was still pouring down on me, but I didn't care. I just stood there, and stared at Jess.

_She didn't want me there._

Johnson started pulling her by the arm, yanking her back in the direction we'd come from.

"I'll call you," she said, flashing me an awkward smile over her shoulder.

"Do me a favor, Mastriani," I gritted out of very clenched teeth.

"Sure. What?"

I glared at her, the numb feeling being replaced by a growing anger that spread throughout me like a wave of heat. _She didn't want me there._

Our eyes met. "Don't," I said.

And then I left. I turned and walked away into the rain and mist, without even looking back. I got on my bike, put on my helmet, and drove off, past Buckteeth and down the winding roads, the rain against my helmet battling with the buzzing in my ears as I tried to control my insane emotions.

_Jess is in trouble. I have to take her home._

"_Damnit!_" I yelled at the top of my lungs.


	8. Chapter 8

Hi, everybody! Now, before you all throw those variously-sized/squishy tomatoes you're aiming at me, let me explain myself. I had a BIG TEST. Which I forgot about and thus had to frantically drop everything and study nonstop for. I took it this morning, and thankfully got a B, so all's well, but that's my excuse numero uno.

If THAT didn't make you put down the fruit, let me also add that yes, this chapter is about 7 pages on Word, and yes, it finishes the entire book. So... lower those tomatoes gently to the ground, please... Carefully... Good. (Wipes sweat from brow).

That's really all I had to say about the story, but I would like to add my favorite three lines from this story that I, unfortunately, didn't get to include, because Rob wasn't there. :( So... you can skip if you want, I suppose, but they're very good lines. Very good.

**"Say you're sorry, Arthur commanded Shane, "or I'll bounce up and down until your ribs break." **- page 58. You gotta love Arthur.

**Sam took a long swallow of Coke. He then let out a burp of such length and volume, diners at nearby tables glanced over in admiration. Although pleased by this, Sam modestly refused to take total credit for his accomplishment. "Having a deviated septum helps," he informed us.** - page 99. Do I really have to say anything?

**Scott ducked his head modestly. "You were right, Jess," he said. "Tampons do make good fuses."** - page 224. Just... I can picture that _so well..._

Yeah, so that's it. The story of TGILICNC is officially... **over** from here on out. Ta-da. Congratulate me! ...Oh yeah, you should probably read it first.

* * *

Okay. So I was mad. And I think I had good right to be. I was mad, and I was confused, and most of all, I was worried.

So when I left, I didn't go far.

In fact, I only made it to the same place I'd stopped before, with Jess – the turnoff by the lake with the picnic table – before I was forced to stop, my hands were trembling so hard.

Because, _damn her!_

I don't think I can properly describe just how angry I was when I stopped. I mean, I was stomping around, shouting stuff at the top of my lungs that I hadn't even realized I'd _known_, for a good twenty minutes. But eventually, I calmed down.

And then… Well, then I was hurt. I mean, Jess _hadn't wanted me there_. She always does, normally. It just… I…

So, I stayed there for a while longer, thinking about that. Luckily the rain had already stopped, so I wasn't getting soaked, or anything. But it still wasn't exactly comfortable, sitting on that picnic table, staring at the lake, and realizing…

Well, realizing just how stupid I'd been. I guess my brain just overloaded, or something. Because it was obvious, now that I'd cooled down, what she'd been trying to do. Jess had wanted me gone, all right – so that she could find that kid. And contrary to what I'd said earlier, I _did_ give a crap about Shane. I just didn't care about him as much as I did about Jess.

What? It's true! I mean, if you were given the choice between some random kid and the girl you – the girl you like, who would _you_ pick?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

But Jess, I knew, would have picked the innocent kid's life over her own any day. She's a freaking martyr about stuff like that. So, when she sent me away, it wasn't a _personal_ thing. It was just that she needed to be able to find Shane, and she couldn't do that with me – or the Feds – worrying about her.

And, I guess I should be flattered, that she was more worried about me stopping her than the FBI, but I just wasn't in the mood to appreciate it then.

But whether or not I appreciated it, after a little while I finally felt like I might understand it. This was what Jess did. And if I really wanted to keep on – if I was going to be involved in this kind of stuff, I'd just have to understand that. Because it was something she couldn't change. It was part of her fundamental make-up; the part of her that would willingly put herself in deadly danger for others. In Jess's case, the 'others' seemed to include any kid, near or far, that she liked or disliked, as long as they needed her help. In mine…

Look, I'm not like Jess, okay? Yes, I like helping these kids. And yeah, it's worth it. I'll even put myself in harm's way for them; that's fine with me. I just… okay, I just don't like it when _Jess_ does.

I was sitting on that picnic table, having this epiphany, when I heard the explosion.

It should be obvious what I did; I hopped on my Indian and drove right back to camp, worried as hell – only to pull up in the parking lot and realize that the loud echoing boom I'd heard had only been the two FBI agents' white van.

Which could only mean one thing: Jess had escaped, and gone to get the kid. I had no idea how she knew where he was – since she couldn't possibly have fallen asleep in so little time – but I knew that had to be what she'd done.

Apparently, the Feds both knew that too. I drove up just as Johnson was swearing at his still-flaming car, and they both turned straight to me.

Johnson was the first to reach me, and he tried to tower over me menacingly – but as I said before, he's barely any taller than me, and his attempt just made me smirk.

"Where's Jess?" he asked angrily. "Where'd she go?"

I just shrugged. It wasn't my fault their truck had exploded. That would have been done by – well, not Jess, since she would have needed this diversion to get away from these two. And… not Ruth either; she was way too much of a wimp to light a federal officer's car on fire.

Then who?

I ran through the limited options in my head. Karen Sue was laughable, I hadn't done it, so it had to be…

_Dave._

The idiot blew up a car for her! What the hell was he thinking?

Okay, so maybe I had a brief moment gloating that I'd blown up a _helicoptor_, which is way better than a van. But mostly, I disapproved.

Apparently, Johnson had realized I couldn't possibly have blown his van up, seeing as I had just arrived, because while I was lost in thought, he had walked away. Either that, or Smith had dragged him away. I'm guessing latter, judging by the glares he kept shooting me.

The time passed annoyingly slowly after that – I almost left again, but somehow I just couldn't make myself – but eventually it happened. All the cops came running out of the building and driving off, sirens on. Jess had called them.

I followed them, of course. In fact, once I realized where we were going – it was another one of those roads I'd accidentally gone up before, leading to a cave – I went onto the shoulder of the road and even passed them. It was easy, because they had to go kind of slowly due to the condition of the road, which wasn't the best, after the storm. They yelled at me, but they couldn't exactly stop me, so I was the first on the scene by several minutes.

And it was a good thing, too. Pretty much _everybody_ there was frozen; Ruth, off-the-list guy, and a guy who must be the infamous Dave. This kid was sobbing wildly – I assumed he was Shane. And Jess… Well, Jess wasn't exactly hysterical. More… tired. Tired, and hurt. I could see from one glance at her that she was pretty beaten up, and the first thing I did was storm right over to her. I didn't grab her by the shoulders and shake her, but I _really_ wanted to.

"Jess? Are you all right?"

Jess kind of blinked at me, and nodded. All of her friends were gaping at me, I guess wondering how I got there so fast, and Shane was still sobbing wildly, arms wrapped around Jess's waist and head on her shoulder.

As soon as she nodded, I lost it. I will admit freely that I went a little overboard with the yelling, but I was worried!

However, she didn't seem to mind that too much, as she just ignored me, and went with the cops. She was so quiet for a while that I finally just shut up and followed her, worried.

Of course, all was revealed when she told us we'd find Clay Larsson unconscious in the cave.

I might have started yelling again once I heard that, but I never got the chance, because Jess and Shane were getting loaded back into a police car and taken back to camp almost instantly.

I kicked a rock viciously, and followed them back as fast as I could.

Luckily, they let me in with Jess and Shane when they went in for their checkup. I mean, I would have gotten in anyway, but they didn't even argue with me. All I know, is Special Agent Smith was smiling at me, and Johnson was glaring at her.

Yeah, I think I'm going to call her _Special Agent_ from now on.

Jess spoke first, surprising me a little, broke the silence. "Well," she said, as if resuming an interrupted conversation, "What was I supposed to think? I mean, after that whole don't-call-me thing."

Oh. She was referring to the way, when I'd been yelling at her earlier, I happened to mention how annoyed I was that she'd gotten _Dave_ to blow up the Fed's van for her, rather than me. Of course, I didn't phrase it exactly that way…

"I knew what you were after, Mastriani," I half-lied. I _had_ known what she was doing later, but the don't-call-me thing was entirely me being angry at her. "You wanted to get rid of me so you could ditch the Feds and go after the little guy."

Shane grunted at me and smirked. "Sorry. I meant little dude."

He rolled his eyes. "Thank you." Ooh, sarcasm. Scary.

"No talking." The nurse scolded him, and the little guy – yeah, you heard me – went back to scowling around his thermometer.

"And you were okay with that?" Jess asked me, ignoring the interlude. "I mean, letting me ditch the Feds, and you, in order to go after Shane?"

"Of course I wasn't okay with that." I stopped, and blinked at Shane. Maybe that wasn't exactly the most considerate thing to say… ah, who the hell cared. I waited until the nurse finished taking Jess's pulse before continuing, "But what was I supposed to do, Mastriani? The guy pulled a gun on me."

I saw Shane perk up at the mention of guns, and look at me excitedly, like I was some kind of Indiana Jones or something. He'd been doing that pretty often, actually. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I drive a motorcycle. "Not like I thought he'd shoot me, but it was clear nobody – specifically you – wanted me around."

Okay, so I was a little bitter.

But I was gratified to hear her defensive reply; "That isn't true. I always want you around."

"Yeah, but only if I'll go along with whatever hare-brained idea you've come up with. And let me tell you, going into a cave in the middle of the night with a killer on the loose? Not one I'd probably go for." She still could have asked me, though.

"Well, it all turned out okay," Mastriani insisted.

"Oh, yeah," I snorted, employing some liberal sarcasm. "Shane? You agree with that? You think it all turned out okay?"

He nodded, and once he was free of the thermometer, added, "I think it turned out great."

Traitor.

I, of course, got my revenge and made my point at the same time. "You didn't seem to think so when you first got out of that cave."

He didn't back down. "Yeah. But that was before the cops got there. I was afraid he was going to wake up and come after us again."

Okay, credit where credit's due. I'd seen them, carting Clay out of there, and there was no way he was waking up anytime soon. I shared this observation, "After that whack you gave him?" I raised my eyebrows for emphasis, shaking my head. "Never mind football, kid. You've got batting in your blood."

…And here returned the odd hero worship again, this time with a blush. Hmm.

I turned back to Jess, and the original conversation. "You know, Mastriani, you have more than just an anger-management problem. You are also the stubbornest damned person I've ever met. Once you get an idea into your head, nothing can make you change your mind. Not your friends. Not the FBI. And certainly not me." Just a _little_ bitter, I swear. "I used to have a dog a lot like you," I added, with a smirk.

Jess looked affronted, but Shane began giggling wildly. "What happened? To the dog that was like Jess?"

"Oh," I shrugged. "He was convinced he could stop moving cars with his teeth, if he could just sink them into their tires. Eventually, he got run over."

I hadn't really considered, in depth, how Jess might feel about that, so it was something of a surprise to me how amusing it was.

"I am not," she insisted vehemently, "a car-chasing dog. There is absolutely no parallel between me and a dog that's stupid enough to – "

She stopped when she noticed me laughing, which was a shame. I would have liked hearing more about just how different she was from Patches (hey, I was only seven! Cut me some slack).

"So, you're not mad at me?" I kind of trailed off, looking over at Jess. She was lying in the infirmary bed, still all covered in dirt and dust from the cave, staring up at me with a hopeful expression on her face.

Damn it, I _was_ mad at her. She'd told me to get out of town, and then gone and nearly killed herself as soon as I did! I was _furious_!

…Except I wasn't. In fact, all I could think about was kissing her, right now, and the only thing that was stopping me was the presence of Shane and the nurse. I should probably be grateful to them.

Because Jess should at least _think_ I was mad. Even if she had to know by now that I liked her, she still didn't know just how much – and I couldn't let her. It was bad enough just like this, if I let her know exactly how much I – I could _not_ let her know.

Besides, she already thought I was a pushover. I just smiled a little, and said, "I think I'll be able to get over it."

God, I'd be _so_ over it if the nurse and that little kid were out of the room…

Damn it, Rob, you really _aren't_ helping yourself here.

There was another pause in which Jess and I just smiled at each other, broken only by Shane's gagging and his asking me, in a horrified tone, "How can you _stand_ all that… _mushiness_?"

Of course, then the nurse mentioned visitors, and then came the cops and the questions, and I pretty much tuned out for most of the time, because they hardly asked me anything.

I snapped back to attention when Johnson – who was sitting next to me – turned and said, suspiciously, "And just how, precisely, did you happen upon the scene, Mr. Wilkins? It was my impression that you left the camp some hours ago."

He knew that I'd gotten back just when the car blew up, and had been there ever since. He was fully aware of that, but apparently he still thought I'd been the one to do it, and wanted me to confess… Yeah. Well, I was actually innocent this time, and he was annoying me.

So I smirked at him, took Jess's hand, and in voice dripping with sincerity, said, "Well, I couldn't leave things the way they were with my girl, could I? I had to come back and apologize."

Johnson looked at us, and then pointedly looked at the ceiling, obviously disgusted. Special Agent Smith, on the other hand, smiled.

"Um, I see." Johnson's tone was dry and openly skeptical. "Please forgive me if I sound unconvinced. The fact is, Special Agent Smith and I feel that it is a bit of a coincidence, Jess, that you went looking for young Shane in Wolf Cave. You certainly didn't mention that he might have been in this cave to anyone when you first learned of his disappearance."

"Excuse me, sir," the nurse said, coming back in and handing what looked like tea to Jess and Shane. "For the shock." She scurried off, clearly no more willing to listen to the never-ending questions than the rest of us. Unfortunately, _we_ couldn't leave.

"Jess," Special Agent Smith sighed, "Why don't you tell us what really happened?"

Somehow, my hand holding hers to mock Johnson had migrated to being my entire arm wrapped around her shoulders, and I still wasn't quite sure how it happened. But Jess was now leaning into my arm, drinking her tea, and I didn't pull away.

Just strike me down now, God, and save me from all of this confusion… please?

"I already told it," Jess said, catching my attention "Exactly like it was. No, really."

"Yes," Shane piped up, "She's telling the truth, sir."

As one, we all turned to look at him. He smiled charmingly, dunking a cookie into his tea and began munching on it.

Johnson looked back at Jess. "Nice try. But I don't think so."

"I highly doubt, for instance," Special Agent Smith added, "that that little boy" – I looked at Shane, to see if he'd protest that again, but apparently he was too involved with his cookies and tea to notice – "was the one who set off a Molotov cocktail beneath our van."

I noticed Dave – he who had actually blown up the van, with the help of who I'd learned was Scott (who, now that I wasn't worried about him liking Jess, obviously liked Ruth, god knows why) – looking at my arm around Jess's shoulders, and tightened it a little, meeting his eyes. I don't think so, buddy. Not gonna happen.

Dave looked away first. Ha. Get off the list, _Dave_.

"Well, obviously," Jess said. "That could only have been Mr. Larsson."

I turned and looked at her. Never let it be said that Mastriani isn't clever. "No, really," she insisted at the FBI agents' skeptical looks. "To distract you. I mean, come on. The guy's a real psycho. I hope they put him away for a long, long time. Going after a little kid like that? Why, it's unconscionable."

"Unconscionable," Johnson repeated, staring at her.

God, I _love_ you, Jess.

…Not like that. I just meant – she was being witty and I… crap. I have to stop thinking awkward, _untrue_, stuff like that.

"Sure," Jess continued, unaware of my internal panicking. "That's a word. I took the PSATs. I should know."

Okay. _I_ know how I meant it, and I didn't say it out loud, so no one else could interpret it wrong. I had no reason to worry. Okay.

"Funny how, Johnson said, "Clay Larsson happened to know exactly which vehicle was ours." I noticed he looked pointedly at me when he said Clay Larsson, as if to say 'Yeah, I know it was you'.

It _wasn't_, okay?

I decided I was just going to forget I'd ever thought it. I could do that. Yeah. Just forget about it.

"Yeah," Jess said, sipping her tea innocently, "Well, you know. Criminal genius and all."

Okay, then. Everything was fine. I relaxed in my seat. Jess didn't know what I'd thought – no one did. I was good. Great, even.

"And strange," Special Agent Smith said, with a raised eyebrow, "that he would pick our vehicle, out of all the other ones parked in that lot, to set on fire, when he doesn't even know us."

So great, in fact, that when I heard that, I couldn't resist saying, "One of the hardest things to accept about violent crime is its seeming randomness."

Shane spluttered on a sip of his tea, Jess grinned widely, and the FBI agents both turned and looked at me. Special Agent Smith looked surprised and exasperated, and even a little disappointment. Johnson… well, Johnson just looked mad.

I don't know what would have happened just then, if Dr. Alistair hadn't burst into the room, panting, but I don't think it would have been very pleasant.

"Jessica, you're all right?" He cried, and when we all stared at him silently, he continued on like she'd agreed, even though she hadn't said a word. "Oh, thank goodness. Thank goodness. I do hope, Jessica, that you'll forgive me for my outburst earlier this evening – "

Like she would _ever_ –

Jess interrupted both Dr. Alistair and my train of thought, saying, "You mean when you asked me why I didn't get my psychic friends to help me find Shane?"

Apparently, the agents weren't supposed to know about that, if the worried look Dr. Alistair shot them was any indication. "Yes," he said nervously, "About that. I didn't mean – "

He meant every word he said, that utter –

Jess did it again. "Yes you did. You meant every word." She glared at the FBI agents. "How much did you pay him, anyway, to report my every mood to you?"

They looked at each other. "Jessica," Special Agent Smith said, "What are you talking about?"

Please. Spare us.

"It's so obvious," Jess told them, "that he was your narc. I mean, he scheduled that one o'clock appointment with me, and then when I didn't show up, he called you. That's how you knew I'd left the camp. You didn't have to sit outside by the gates and wait to see if I'd leave. You had someone working on the inside to save you the trouble."

"That," Johnson denied, "is patently – "

"Oh, come on," Mastriani rolled her eyes. "When are you guys going to get it through your heads that you're going to have to find yourself a new Cassandra?" There had to be a story behind that… "Because the truth is, this one's retired."

"Jessica," cried an affronted voice that I really hated, "I would never in a million years compromise the integrity of this camp by accepting money for – "

"Aw, shut up," Shane snapped, and everyone blinked for a second. Oh, the look on Dr. Alisatair's face… And might I just add, a very sincere, _Congratulations, Shane!_

Because he actually _did_. Shut up. It was a miracle.

Johnson leaned forward, and spoke quietly, I guess to be more private. But I could still here, seeing as he was sitting right next to me. Actually, he was kind of leaning in front of me. It was a little annoying. "Jessica, we know perfectly well that Jonathon Herzberg asked you to find his daughter, and that you, in fact, did so. We also know that this evening, you again used your psychic powers to find Shane Taggerty. You can't go on with this ridiculous charade that you've lost your psychic powers any longer. We _know_ the truth." He leaned back – thank _you_ – and glared at her.

Then Special Agent Smith, who had approached us without me noticing, added, "And it's only a matter of time before you'll be forced to admit it, Jess."

See, comments like _that_ are what get in the way of me actually liking that woman. Well, that and how she always seems to want to make Jess go to some 'safe house' or use her powers when she doesn't want to and…

Huh, maybe she doesn't deserve the special title after all.

Jess had been contemplating Special Agent Smith's – what? She let me in the infirmary. That's worth a title or two – comment this entire time, and she finally said, "Jill?"

"Yes, Jess?" 'Jill' looked at her questioningly.

Jess asked her, with utmost sincerity, "Are you a lesbian?"

I wasn't in on the private joke there, but the way Shane nearly fell out of bed laughing, and just the _look_ on Special Agent Smith's face – it was good enough for me.

I left after that. In fact, so soon after that, that I barely said goodbye to Jess. But really, I'd concluded all my business here – I'd scared away Dave, rescued some kids, Jess's would-be murderer was in jail, and I'd successfully _not_ kissed her the entire time.

Seriously, I just wanted to get home before anything else went wrong.

And nothing did. I mean, really. Nothing. Jess didn't even try to kiss me goodbye. She just said, "Bye, Rob. I guess I'll see you later," with a slightly sad look on her face. And the drive home was fine, too. I didn't get lost once, and I only had to buy gas once.

And I've been fine, the rest of the summer. I mean, I've occasionally thought about driving up to visit her, but that would, frankly, be insane, so I've never acted on it.

Maybe I've spent more time inside than usual, but that doesn't mean I _wait_ for her to call. And I told my mom so, too, the one time she was in the kitchen when Jess called, and she saw me answer the phone.

I wouldn't call it _rushing_, but apparently she did. And I _always_ pace when I'm on the phone. So that wasn't nearly as weird as she made it out to be.

And yeah, I am driving four miles, one-way, to watch her solo at the concert tonight, but I've never even heard Mastriani play. And I like driving, anyway…

Ah, screw it. I've already admitted it. I like Jess, a lot, and I'm not in denial about it.

And for some reason, despite me saying we aren't dating, I always seem to be there when she calls, always eager to hear her voice, ready to drive four miles (one way) to see her play just one song, and I'm pretty sure I'll visit her as soon as I can once she gets back.

And I've been having some pretty interesting dreams lately, too.

I like her. A lot.

But that's as far as I'm ever going to let it get.


End file.
